


How the cup holds the tea

by marginalia



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, shameless domesticity is love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia
Summary: Yibo didn't let him ask how it was managed, the single day alone together a miraculous perfect intersection in the madman's wall of criss-crossed strings that is their lives. "Just let it be," he said, pressing his index finger first to his own lips, then to Xiao Zhan's. And he did, a gift of his own to give.(Happy birthday to Xiao Zhan, destroyer of worlds or at least my life.)





	How the cup holds the tea

**Author's Note:**

> 2017 GenPrompt Bingo 2: Kishotenketsu (Plot Without Conflict)
> 
> Title from Pat Schneider, “The Patience of Ordinary Things”

Their lives are unrelentingly strange, and everything moves so fast it can be hard to see what's normal and what's not, what it is best to hold onto and what to let flow through their hands like water. 

Yibo works to stay grounded, his feet flat on the floor, set in foundation, rooted in earth. He bends, smooth, palms spread in the spot warmed by the late morning autumn sun through the window, and breathes slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

Xiao Zhan slaps his ass on the way to the kitchen, and though it's not enough to make him fall, he wiggles as if it was. Xiao Zhan snickers to himself, pads around a bit starting tea, then leans against the counter as he waits for the water, just watching. 

Yibo didn't let him ask how it was managed, the single day alone together a miraculous perfect intersection in the madman's wall of criss-crossed strings that is their lives. "Just let it be," he said, pressing his index finger first to his own lips, then to Xiao Zhan's. And he did, a gift of his own to give.

All he asks now is what Xiao Zhan wants of his day. 

He thinks, but only for a moment. "I want to stay here and be bored."

Yibo mock pouts, but he can't keep it going. "You don't want to take me out and show me off?" As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Of course he wants that, they both do, and of course the reasons they can't have it are legion. 

Xiao Zhan steps to him quickly, leaving the tea to over-steep, kissing his forehead. "Always," he says, voice a little rough, "always, my little prince."

Yibo sneaks his hand up under his t-shirt and tickles his belly to lighten the moment. "Okay!" he says. "Boredom. So, what, we stay here, eat instant noodles, you watch me play video games?"

Xiao Zhan pulls away laughing to retrieve the tea. "That sounds more like a present for you."

"That's what we call a win-win situation," Yibo corrects him, grabbing a controller and hurling himself onto the couch. 

He's not wrong. Xiao Zhan sits at the other end with a pile of paperwork - a day home isn't the same thing as a day off and there are always heaps of things to read and sign and memorize. He settles in, sliding his legs across Yibo's lap. Not that he expects to get much work done, to be honest. He doesn't care about the game, but he loves watching Yibo care about it. He loves watching Yibo forget he's being watched, and it never happens as much as he'd like. 

"Why do you own this anyway?" Yibo asks eventually, gesturing with the controller but not looking away from the tv. 

"I'm trying to woo this hot young guy, and the girl at the store said this is what the kids are into these days. Do you think it'll work?"

"Idiot," Yibo says, flinging the controller to the left with his entire body in a last ditch effort to avoid disaster. It doesn't work. "Damn. Well, get over here and show me what you've learned." Xiao Zhan leers at him. "The game," he clarifies. "Pervert."

"Oh," Xiao Zhan says, pretending to be crestfallen. "Well, I guess I've learned a little about that too."

He grabs a controller, but it was never a contest. He didn't buy the console for Yibo, but he didn't buy it for himself either. He bought it for the person he thought he was becoming, but he likes the person he became better, even if that's the sort of person who waves his hand in front of Yibo's face in a desperate and doomed attempt to win. 

Yibo laughs at him, so bright Xiao Zhan’s throat tightens to see it. "Slow old man!" 

"Oh, I can show you slow," Xiao Zhan says, pouncing, pressing him back into the couch, kissing him as if he has all day to get it right and he does. Yibo, always in a hurry, tugs at his waistband, but Xiao Zhan grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together as he pushes Yibo deeper into the cushions, whispers _not yet_ whispers _later_ licks tea and laughter and youth from his gasping mouth.

"Fuck you," says Yibo conversationally when he finally pulls back, both flushed pink. 

"Maybe later, if you're good," he says, and ducks Yibo's quick slap. "Look who's slow now!" He slips back to the far end of the couch. “Boredom!" he reminds Yibo, as he rummages through the mess of papers trying to figure out where he left off. “Maybe put on a film?”

Yibo is a little too successful; when he looks over a half hour in, Xiao Zhan is fast asleep. Yibo’s mouth quirks, just a little, and he silently gets up, moves Xiao Zhan's glasses out of danger, and covers him with a blanket. He bites his lip, watching for a moment, until he starts to feel like a creep. It’s nice, though, to be trusted with the everyday things and not just with the passion. He’s young, but not so young he doesn’t know you need both, and it’s a gift to be able to take care of Xiao Zhan, maybe even more so since they're apart so much. It is a thing he thinks he could become very good at. Xiao Zhan deserves it.

He lowers the volume on the tv and sits back down. As the film plays on, he thinks over the paltry contents of the kitchen, then picks up his phone and places a frankly staggering dinner order. 

In a magnificent feat of timing, Xiao Zhan wakes up five minutes before the food arrives, blinking the sleep from his eyes and complaining that Yibo left him too long. “I’ve heard the elderly need that afternoon nap, though,” Yibo says earnestly and Xiao Zhan pulls a face.

They eat standing up in the kitchen, swapping containers back and forth, trying to pretend that this is normal, boring life and not a moment that had to be orchestrated. And suddenly, Yibo can’t anymore. He just stops. Xiao Zhan looks up, puzzled. “What?”

Yibo doesn’t know how to say it, everything that today has made clear to him in every way but words. _I want to be solid_, _I want to be safety_, _I want to be home for you_. He wants to be remembered and forgotten all at once, to be all of the meaning of alone and together, to be a thing to be relied on instinctively, without question. He can’t say it, not now, maybe not ever, but there are other ways. He wraps his arms around Xiao Zhan, tight as if he could press them into a single person by just willing it to be so. They stand that way for what could be forever, grounded, breathing.

Xiao Zhan pulls back first, just a little, traces his jawline, kisses his eyelids, whispers almost to himself _how am I so lucky?_ and it’s all Yibo can do to not cry and he doesn’t understand what's happening or why. It’s incredibly cruel and incredibly human to mourn the loss of a thing while you still have it, and even now, so close they’re breathing the same air, he is thinking of tomorrow and the next day and the next, all spent alone in crowds.

“Come back to me, baby,” Xiao Zhan says and kisses him, insistent. Yibo staggers, ever so slightly and finds his way out of next week and into now, kissing him back until Xiao Zhan breathes _ahhhh there you are_ into his mouth and pulls them towards the bedroom, shucking off his shirt as they go. 

Yibo starts tugging his own shirt up, but Xiao Zhan stops him. “Let me,” he says, kissing Yibo again, his hands skimming down outside and then up under, touching the warm skin, the smooth planes of Yibo’s long torso. He pulls the shirt up and off, runs his fingers through Yibo’s hair, drops kisses at his collarbone, tongues each nipple, breathes the pure musk at his armpit and growls a little, making Yibo laugh. 

Then they’re kissing again, skin to skin, hips shifting, seeking friction everywhere. Yibo’s back is pressed against the wall as Xiao Zhan bites at his lower lip and then drops to his knees. His fingers at Yibo’s waistband, tugging sweats and boxers off all at once, a steadying hand at Yibo’s hip as he kicks them off. 

Xiao Zhan takes him in his mouth and glances up, Yibo’s heavy-lidded smile the gift he’s been searching for. _Now you’re here with me_ he thinks, and then Yibo’s hands are in his hair and his words in his ears, a slowly-building stream of _so pretty_ and _just like that_ and _slower_ and then finally, “wait.” 

Yibo pulls him up and pushes him towards the bed. Xiao Zhan flops onto it as Yibo mutters “why are you still dressed?” as if Xiao Zhan’s sweats are a personal affront and maybe they are. Yibo pulls them off, but still stands for a moment, just looking. 

“Get over here,” Xiao Zhan growls, “before I have to take care of this myself.” Yibo looks thoughtful and Xiao Zhan kicks at him lightly, palming his own dick, a swipe of his thumb at the tip. 

“If you could only see yourself,” Yibo says in a tone a little like awe, swallowing hard. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much, but Xiao Zhan can’t look away. He drinks it all in, both savoring it for now and saving it for the future. Then without warning Yibo leaps at him and everything is happening at once, messy kisses, hands everywhere, Yibo’s teeth scraping Xiao Zhan’s neck, Xiao Zhan’s nails digging into Yibo’s back. 

It takes all Yibo’s self control to pull away. “I had a plan,” he mutters as he twists and rummages for a condom and lube. 

“You had a plan? A sex plan?” 

“Shut up,” Yibo says, slicking Xiao Zhan’s fingers and lying back. “Come on old man,” he whines as Xiao Zhan inserts first one finger, then another, jacking himself lightly as he stretches Yibo, his own mouth falling open. _Gorgeous_, Yibo breathes, bites his lip, heat rising all through him. “Now, damn you,” he says, and Xiao Zhan does, sinking into him, Yibo gripping him so tight everywhere. 

Even now Xiao Zhan is amazed that he can have this, that he can be held safe by this man in every possible way. Yibo takes him with eyes open, mouth open, heart open, and neither has room to think of tomorrow, only of each other in this moment in all the places that they touch. _Without you, baby, I just fall apart._

Later, when he thinks Xiao Zhan is asleep, Yibo slips out to the kitchen. “Where did you go?” Xiao Zhan says, drowsy blinking in the shadows as Yibo climbs back into bed. “I missed you.” 

“Kitchen. I didn’t want a mess in the morning.” 

Another time Xiao Zhan might have made a joke - “so mature” - but tonight everything is too tender. He spreads his arms wide and Yibo crawls into his embrace, tugging the covers over them. “You’re so good to me,” Xiao Zhan sighs, and Yibo hums into his chest. “So good.” 

And he is, and they are, and tonight at least, they’re home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Spare me from shouting into the void about all the beautiful CQL idiots on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/letterboxed).


End file.
